Daffodil
by Infernal Racket
Summary: What would it take for a young pureblood girl to bloom into a witch destined to defy the most dangerous wizard of all time? This is the story of Narcissa Malfoy, and how she rose up to tell a lie which would change the fate of the entire wizarding world.


Narcissa Malfoy was not afraid.

She stood half hidden behind her husband's broad frame, peering out carefully around his shoulders, and yet she felt no fear. Lucius would have never allowed her to stand unprotected in such a place, not after all that had come to pass. Now they knew all too well just how precariously their lives hung in the balance, the broken wizard before her seemed to have found a last remaining flicker of courage and a desire to protect her from as much harm as he possibly could. Of course he offered himself up as a shield in the company of Him.

Harry Potter had fallen and the clearing had descended into a hush. The flash of light had come so suddenly, and it was too much, so bright she feared it would blind her. Even now, she thought the world may very well eternally be tinged a deathly shade of green. Tentatively, she changed her stance, shifting forwards as she stretched up and peered around Lucius' matted blond locks for a better look at the little boy who lay in a crumpled heap on the dank greasy floor. The tiniest of twigs snapped beneath the toe of her boot, but it was enough to end the silence.

She didn't have a chance to react. Before she could fully register the bang, the hex hit her. The stinging sensation started at her shoulder blade and swarmed through every nerve ending across her back, jolting her into emitting a small shriek of pain as she was forced forward, out of her husband's protection.

What else could she do? It was unthinkable to deny the Dark Lord's command, no other option remained but to start on her way towards the crumpled figure. Each step was slow, unsteady, as though every natural instinct she had once retained had been brutally knocked away from her, along with her ability to walk. Nonetheless she somehow struggled on, the threat of a second blow to her unprotected back made sure of that.

A hushed whisper rippled through the gathering behind her. It spoke of a dark hope, praying to all things wicked and evil in the world that Harry Potter had at last been defeated. It fell silent as she neared the boy, but the darkness that had come with it lingered, ever hanging over the witch.

She dropped down onto her knees. For a long time she held her breath, not really paying any attention to the Potter boy beside her. Only one thought was on her mind despite the dangerous predicament she was in. Draco. Was he safe? Or had he too fallen, like so many others? Every part of her yearned to spend far too long mulling over her son, and yet she knew the only hope she had of surviving long enough to hold him in her arms again was to focus and turn her gaze onto the task at hand.

He was skinnier than her own son. She had never noticed it before but knelt beside him it was all so apparent. From his spindly legs to wrists so small she was sure she could wrap her fingers around, he was so thin and broken, a far cry from the Chosen One that everyone would have the world believe existed. Sprawled out before her, he was every bit as weak and vulnerable as her own Draco was, despite how hard he would try to convince his mother otherwise. Not a warrior, just a child. Just a little boy.

Just a boy.

* * *

"So obviously you will want a boy first, have a girl later if you must, have two even, but don't be like me, do your job and have your boy." Druella Black rattled on, shrill voice piercing through the air and drowning out the already faint sounds of the string quartet outside where her daughter would soon be wed. Despite the celebratory atmosphere in the air, the witch showed no relent and seemed as determined as ever to lecture her youngest daughter mere minutes before the ceremony.

The lecture had been an uninvited guest since breakfast and so Narcissa had grown accustomed to its presence. At first she had sighed and rolled her eyes as she nodded along with her but now, with the wedding imminent, she could barely hear her mother. What other last minute advice she chose to bestow, Narcissa could never recall, for all of her focus was on making a few final adjustments to her dress.

It fit like a glove, her wedding gown. The ivory bodice hugged her narrow waist and flowed at the hips into a long, full skirt that echoed a blooming flower. Soft satin sat draped across her torso, just off-the-shoulder, but with a delicate, pearl-finished, lace neckline that tickled her gently protruding collarbones. Narcissa had never owned a dress like it before. Everything prior to it had been pretty enough, yes, but her older gowns had been all frills and flowers, thick petticoats and silky bows. They were dresses for little girls, but she was a child no longer. Standing beside the main door in pristine white heels as her mother hurried outside and her dear father emerged to escort her, she felt every bit a woman.

His smile of approval was all she needed; the dress had given her the air of dignified elegance that she knew he had hoped for. It was of upmost importance that her gown provided the guests with something to talk about other than disaster that was Bellatrix's wedding dress. A few last minute alterations including a plunging neckline and morbid colour change had left the pureblood community with enough gossip to last a lifetime. But Narcissa wasn't like that, she would never act as Bellatrix had.

Her dress certainly did the job. She looked like a queen as she took to the aisle with one arm draped over her father's. A white runner led the way across the patch of lush green lawn to her future husband. At the sight of her the guests began to rise from wooden garden chairs either side to greet her with varied expressions: overwhelmed, proud, welcoming, and for Bellatrix — bored. Her mother wore a glare capable of making small children cry, a glare that warned Narcissa, for what felt like the millionth time, to behave. It sent a jolt through her nervous system, as though she had been struck with a stinging hex. Even at such a young age she knew too well what was being asked of her. She was the last of three, the one remaining child who now held both parents' expectations upon her. She couldn't end up like Bellatrix and she certainly couldn't end up like Andromeda.

Her mind whirred, working to produce every possible outcome, both worst case scenarios and ideal situations. Narcissa, however, longed for neither. She wished she could turn around and run, leaving the crowds of witches and wizards behind. She longed to be locked away in her bedroom, her face hidden in a book.

But she could not. She had to make her father proud, her mother happy, and restore any lost faith in the Black family. With one sister a traitor and completely obliterated from the family tree, and the other a drunk and dabbling in the dark arts, she had no choice.

The fabric of her gown felt impossibly heavy on her shoulders, but she pushed her worries from her mind and tried to focus on the summer sunshine. How it sent a soft, tranquil glow across the gardens of Malfoy manor, how it warmed her complexion and how it danced off Lucius' flaxen hair as he spoke his vows.

* * *

The reception was exceedingly dull, but Narcissa plastered on a charming smile just as her mother ordered. Through the lavish banquet consisting of four courses, she beamed. During Lucius' mediocre speech, she looked upon her new husband with her head held high, a look of pride and adoration masking her soft yawns and otherwise blank expression. However, as the day declined, so did her energy and willingness to cooperate. It became more and more difficult to plaster on a smile, although she tried her best every time her mother looked her way.

The afternoon consisted mainly of trailing after Lucius, arm in arm, and listening as intently as she could whilst he babbled on and on about his own fortunes to witches and wizards she could not even put a name to. Her husband's associates, clearly. Would they be her associates also now, or would she forever be flitting about beside him and grinning at people who would never be more to her than that? She knew fully well that she would be required to hang onto her husband's arm on many occasions, nothing more than a pretty face and a symbol of status.

After covering half the large ball room and greeting half the guests, Lucius came to a halt again, of course, in front a smiling middle-aged man. He wore fine silk robes and held a very formal stance: his back straight and fingers linked behind, head held high and glasses perched at the edge of his nose. A member of the Ministry, Narcissa guessed. The man nodded and offered the pair his congratulations before the conversation turned to business, not to her surprise. As hard as she tried, Narcissa knew that she would never be able to take any interest whatsoever in the goings on of whatever it was exactly that her new husband did. As Lucius discussed work, the bride found her attention caught by a conversation being held at a table behind her.

"Did you hear the delightful news?" asked an old witch, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Wrinkles covered her face and she had a nose possibly even more pointed and snooty than Druella's. "The traitor gave birth. Cruel, I say; it baffles me why anybody would bring such a child into the world, with blood that dirty the infant doesn't stand a chance." The woman cackled and the other guests at her table joined in.

Narcissa tugged lightly on her new husband's arm, urging him to move on and continue exchanging pleasantries elsewhere. Andromeda may have been a traitor but she was still Narcissa's sister. Not a day passed when Narcissa did not think of her sister, not even her wedding day. As she had readied herself, she imagined Andromeda at her side, gently brushing her hair as opposed to their mother impatiently tugging, almost pulling out the blonde strands along with any knots. As she helped a scowling, reluctant Bellatrix into her bridesmaids dress, she wished she were also helping Andromeda. Thinking of her now made her ache inside. The words of the old witch only rubbed salt into the wound that was yet to heal.

"Don't you dare do this on Cissy's day, don't you dare!" Narcissa's head immediately jerked around at the sound, instantly recognising the high pitched voice with a sense of dread. No, she wouldn't, surely she wouldn't. And yet sure enough, her sister stood across the room, leant against the wall with a giant glass of wine in her hands, glaring hatefully over at Rodolphus beside her. Several other guests had already looked over in shock, although none but Narcissa, who whispered apologies and unhooked her arm from her husband's began to approach them; she knew her family well, and not a single one would dare get in between her older sister and the horrid man she had to call her husband.

"Every time, every time we go somewhere nice you get yourself pissed and in a mood and then act like it's my fault!" The seemingly very intoxicated Bellatrix went on as Narcissa approached as quickly as her pristine white heels would allow her to. "Nobody wants to see you there with a face on. Smile, Roddy dearest. It's a wedding!"

"Wouldn't know it was a wedding from the look on your stupid face," He gruffly replied, downing the remains of his glass in one quick swig and then reaching to the nearest table for another. "What's wrong, angry because your silly sister's wedding is better than ours? Picked the wrong husband did we?" Rodolphus' words didn't sting as much as Narcissa thought they should have. Perhaps the idea that her brother in law still considered her to be a silly girl should have hurt, but the absolute truth of the matter was that his opinion counted for nothing, for she loathed him. From the moment their engagement had been announced she had held nothing but disdain for the older Lestrange brother, and devastation that her sister would be lost to him.

"I didn't pick! Believe me if I had it wouldn't have been you."

"Then who? Think this would be your wedding, wife? Reckon that would be you flitting about on that idiot's arm?" Again, Narcissa mentally brushed away the insults, solely determined on weaving through the crowd and attempting to calm down her sister before things escalated to a scale she knew Bellatrix was capable of.

"I wouldn't have him either!" The volume of her sister's voice was rising at a rapid rate, almost as shrill as her mother's could be. Whilst Bellatrix would pride herself on sharing no traits whatsoever with Druella, her sister had definitely inherited her ability to speak in the most irritating voice imaginable.

"And he wouldn't want you. Look at yourself, you're a mess Bellatrix! You've been drinking since, when, about ten in the morning? And then you have the cheek to call me out on it. Everywhere you go you make a bloody fool of me and I'm sick of it. Don't you realise everyone is staring at you?"

"Nobody is staring at me!" Bellatrix screeched, whirling around to cast a hateful glare at the overly curious guests who had been watching the confrontation. Contrary to her words, the vast majority of the room was now staring, which made it even more difficult for Narcissa to edge her way through, scarcely believing that even Bellatrix would make such a scene at her little sister's wedding. "I've had it up to here with you criticising every little thing I do. I've been good to you, I have. I'm a good wife, more than you deserve."

"A good wife?" Rodolphus snorted in a manner far too unkind for Narcissa's liking, shaking his head. "You, a good wife? You're a disgrace, nothing like your mother promised you'd be. What have we achieved? Nothing. Maybe if you hurried up and got yourself-"

Whatever Rodolphus wanted Bellatrix to get herself, Narcissa would never know. The bang that followed was so loud that several guests ducked down, arms held up protectively over their heads. Narcissa flinched at the sudden noise but did not cower as some did. Growing up with Bellatrix around had taught her to grow accustomed to such sounds. From shattering glass to the sudden crack of a hex, Narcissa barely flinched anymore at the havoc which her sister could cause. Rodolphus, however, was clearly not prepared, for the next moment he let out a cry, hands darting to his head where a pair of antlers had already begun to sprout. Groaning and face red with shame, he promptly turned on his heels and stormed from the room before anyone could see them grow any further, shoving past anyone who was foolish enough to stray across his path.

Bellatrix was laughing as Narcissa reached her, a loud cackle which resonated throughout the room, far louder than the hushed whispers of the wedding-goers, all of whom appeared overjoyed at having something new to gossip about. Nobody looked happier than Bellatrix, who spun to face her sister as she took her arm, dark eyes alight with a new glee and a wicked grin on her lips. Joyful though she did appear, from the drooping of her eyelids to the stench on her breath, Narcissa knew that her sister had drunk far too much.

Narcissa opened her mouth to speak, but finding words was so difficult to her. What could she say to the woman who may have just ruined her wedding day? Anyone else and she would have been filled with fury at whoever would have been rude enough to fight in the middle of a day which was supposed to be filled with such peace, but hex or no hex, she was her sister, and for some bizarre reason which escaped even Narcissa, she was never able to feel any rage towards her. All she could manage was a quiet whine. "Bellatrix …"

"Don't look at me like that. He started it." Her sister snapped in response, holding her head up stubbornly as though she refused to feel any regret regarding her actions. When Narcissa did not cease to look pleadingly towards her sister to keep quiet, Bellatrix laughed. "Oh Cissy, do stop! It was just a bit of fun!" Fun though it was for her, Bellatrix's eyes then widened. Narcissa turned to follow her gaze and saw Druella striding towards the pair, a look of utmost rage on her face. "So er, fabulous wedding. Must dash now!" And with that, she began her escape. Snatching up a glass of wine from a nearby table with one hand and a chicken leg from a guest's plate in the other, Bellatrix Lestrange rushed from the room.

Narcissa once again drowned out her mother's attempts at speaking words of comfort, arm wrapped around her daughter as she furiously spoke about how devastated she must be that her big sister had ruined her special day. In actual fact, it was not devastation that Narcissa felt, but fear. She had heard so much of the argument between husband and wife, watched as their anger grew and the fight had become physical. The hatred in their voices and disgust for each other was all too apparent, and it was that which struck Narcissa so strongly. For she had watched a married couple come to blows as a newlywed woman herself, trapped in matrimony with a man she barely knew, a man who could very well be just as despicable as Rodolphus Lestrange. And so, staring at the door through which her sister had just staggered, with her mother nattering in her ear, all Narcissa could do was hope and pray that her marriage wouldn't turn out the same way.

* * *

After Bellatrix's fuss, Narcissa could no longer even pretend to enjoy the reception, and the evening lasted an eternity. The guests seemed to chatter endlessly, and she was almost certain their wine glasses had been charmed to never run dry. Hour after hour dragged, and tiredness was beginning to consume her when, to her worst luck, Narcissa found herself trapped in the clutches of a nosy great aunt. Little energy was required; she sang a similar tune to her mother and seemed content to rant on and on about Bellatrix's display so a nod every so often proved sufficient. Still, Narcissa was extremely relieved when Lucius interrupted and announced their departure. It took a further hour to bid goodbye to family and friends, but at least a steady progress was being made on their exit.

Parting with her father proved to be the hardest task of the day, (Druella had retired to bed some time before, feeling faint as a result of her eldest daughter's diabolical behaviour). Cygnus Black kissed his youngest daughter's cheek before standing up straight, resuming his usual height. "Good luck, daffodil." He whispered. Three simple words, but blue eyes met brown and exchanged a look that meant much, much more. Narcissa had adored her father since the day she was born, he had a patient, gentle nature, one of which he had expressed to each of his daughters every single day since. His nickname for her never failed to soothe her; it made her feel special, wanted. She would miss him the most.

Narcissa had to pull herself away, fearful that the tears that welled in the corners of her eyes would fall, and retreat with her new husband, escaping into the first night of the rest of their lives.

* * *

The country house was not dissimilar to Malfoy Manor; large and grand, it was nestled away in the wooded hills of the countryside. Tall in the darkness of the night, it came between the pair and the moon, light escaping a window here and there from each of its many floors. The light was warm, inviting, although it would have been more welcoming had Narcissa's nerves not begun to get the better of her. The moment the pair had apparated and the sight of the house had swarmed before her vision, her heart had begun to pound heavily in her chest, a wave of dread washing over her as her new husband guided her forwards.

As they approached the front door he rushed ahead and swung it open for her. "After you." He grunted awkwardly, clearing his throat in the process. She could only manage a squeak in response as she tentatively stepped across the threshold.

"I will show you to the bedroom." Lucius said, gesturing for his new wife to carry on. Although terrified, Narcissa knew there was no going back. Her fate had been sealed the moment she had first consented to her engagement to the man, and so she could do nothing but allow him to guide her upstairs. They reached the master bedroom much quicker than Narcissa would have liked, leaving her very little time to fathom her nerves and muddled thoughts into any sort of sensible plan. Was there a plan? How on earth was she going to get through this and maintain her dignity as well? Had Bellatrix felt this way, anxious and unsure? No, of course not. She was Bellatrix, but Narcissa never would be and so it was only doubt which ran through her mind as she stepped into the room.

Small candles lit the large room, lining empty shelves and the large chest of drawers which stood at the bottom of the bed. Their gently flickering flames cast a delicate orange glow against the four walls and brought a sense of safety to the dark evening that had been absent before. She let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and forced her shoulders to sag a little, taking in the calm ambience of the room. If Lucius had taken the time to think to do this, maybe the act would not be so bad after all.

She stopped and wavered in the centre of the room. He was silent behind her, but she could sense his presence close behind.

She mustered all the courage she could manage and circled, turning to face him. His hair shone golden in the light, and for a moment, she was robbed of the ability to breathe. This marriage may have been decided for her, but she had to admit that her husband was a handsome man. His grey eyes met hers, and she felt her legs weaken below her. Apprehension was clear in her stance; she hugged herself, arms folded across her torso, her chest rising and falling quietly but rapidly.

Both knew what had to happen.

"You are my wife." Lucius said more softly than Narcissa had ever heard a single word spoken before. "I am going to keep you safe, you have nothing to fear." She watched his mouth move as his lips formed each word, and she believed him.

His eyes met hers, their raging storm absent, in its place, a calmness that was only hers. Lucius pulled one, two, three pins from her hair, releasing it from its confines, and her blonde locks fell around her shoulders. He pushed a strand aside, tucking it behind her ear. The gesture surprised her, never had she expected Lucius Malfoy to possess such a gentle nature. It soothed her; it sparked fiery warmth that spread through her veins. When it reached her heart, it fluttered.

His palm rested against her cheek and his lips met hers. The kiss spoke more than a thousand words. 'This is the start of something beautiful', it said.

He took her into his arms and a sense of belonging washed over the young bride, banishing all her prior fears and nervousness. His scent filled her senses and whispered 'lie with me'. Intoxicated, she couldn't protest, nor did she want to.

The sharp angles of Lucius' frame met her delicate curves, and before the dim light of the candles, their shadows become one.


End file.
